Ten Minutes and Countin'
by Rietta
Summary: Seven minutes, thirty-seven seconds remained and he could not think of a single thing, sexual or otherwise, to do with a stopwatch.


**Disclaimer- I do not have the pleasure of owning Torchwood. If I did, there would be less aliens and more beautiful Welsh vowels. As you can tell by the aliens, the BBC has the honour of owning the show.**

**Spoilers- Series 1: 'Cyberwoman' and 'They Keep Killing Suzie'**

**Rating- T**

**Synopsis- Written on request for NightxBlossom. A little peek into what goes on in Ianto's head during the ten minutes he is waiting for Jack.**

**Author's notes- This was originally supposed to be a drabble in my series 'Of Coffee, Kisses and Coats', but it didn't want to be a drabble, it wanted to be a oneshot. Hope you enjoy! Reviews are love, and will be rewarded with Captains and Teaboys in varying stages of undress.**

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**Ten Minutes… And Countin'**

The hand on the stopwatch was moving impossibly fast. Ianto was thinking incredibly slowly. What on earth had possessed him to make that comment? 'It seemed like a good idea at the time…' his conscience whispered back, and he quelled the voice in his mind with a glare. Seven minutes, thirty-seven seconds remained and he could not think of a single thing, sexual or otherwise, to do with a stopwatch. This was bad. This was very bad. They might have been flirting for what seemed like decades, but the Welshman had suddenly woken up to the fact that he had never really thought about taking things further with his boss. First there was Lisa… (Ianto pushed her name back to join his conscience in a dark corner of his mind), and then Jack was mad at him, and then cannibals got in the way… One thing and then another had created a situation where Ianto had not even stopped to consider sleeping with Jack until that stupid sentence tumbled out of his mouth before he had time to think.

Five minutes and fourteen seconds remaining, and still not a single idea. Sweat was starting to glisten on the young man's brow, and sweeping out a pocket handkerchief he mopped it away angrily. Ye gods, it was bad enough having to face Jack in four minutes and twenty-eight seconds without looking like a nervous wreck whilst he was about it. 'Oh yes, because you are totally capable of walking into Jack's office in three minutes and seven seconds without looking like you'd rather take Janet on a date at McDonalds…' his conscience goaded him, and he groaned aloud. Whatever had possessed him?

Two minutes, twelve seconds and zero ideas. The worst thing was, it would take approximately one minute and thirty-one seconds to walk to Jack's office, which left him with… thirty-three seconds to think of something- anything!- one could do with a stopwatch. His mind drew a complete blank, and the Welshman could not prevent the despair that enveloped him as he slowly started the walk to the last place he wanted to be in that second. Ten minutes of careful thought, and he would still have to improvise.

Drawing a deep breath to steady himself, he knocked on the door, grinning at Jack as he opened it and displaying the stopwatch as it reached the final second.

"Your ten minutes are up, Sir."

Jack took one look at Ianto and didn't know whether to laugh or shove him against the doorframe and snog him senseless. The Welshman looked undeniably amusing and at the same time undeniably hot in his oh-so-evident state of panic. Keeping a firm hold on his impulses, Jack did neither and instead grinned that famous Harkness grin.

"Right on time, I'm impressed."

Despite the ridiculousness of the situation, Ianto was moderately offended.

"Did you expect anything less, Sir?"

Yep, it was definitely getting harder not to laugh. The sight of Ianto stood in his doorway, so flustered and yet so stiffly offended… In fact, the urge to laugh wasn't the only thing getting harder.

Swallowing his thoughts with difficulty, Jack managed to shake his head convincingly.

"Not at all. You're excellent at failing to disappoint me, Ianto," he quipped, hoping to lighten the mood.

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "I think there was some sense in there somewhere…" he retorted.

Jack chuckled, raising an eyebrow in return. "Not everything has to make sense, Ianto. Sometimes it's better just to go with what feels… right." The Captain's tones had softened, become almost seductive in their reassurance, and Ianto had his work cut out to swallow the sudden lump in his throat as Jack's fingertips lightly brushed the back of his hand.

The Captain smiled softly. "You gonna come in, or do you want to stand in the doorway all night?"

Suddenly remembering that his mind was blank when it came to stopwatch games, at that moment Ianto would very much have preferred the latter. But he knew that when it came to Jack, that was not an option, and so with another barely concealed gulp he stepped over the threshold and into the office, trying not to flinch as the door swung shut behind him. Awkwardly he stood by the desk, stopwatch clutched in his hand as if it were a life-raft; whilst Jack walked round to sink into his chair.

"So… about that list…" he purred, his tones low and definitely seductive now.

Ianto blinked. "Um, well, yes, about that… Erm… Well…"

Knowing exactly what was going through the archivist's mind, Jack decided that delicious as the sight before him was, he ought to put Ianto out of his misery. Rising to his feet, he stalked around the desk, somewhat impressed by how the Welshman held his ground when it was obvious that all he really wanted to do was turn and run, and fling himself down on the couch and burst into tears. Softening his smile again, the Captain reached out to take Ianto's free hand.

"Then how about we forget the stopwatch, and just take things nice and slow?" he murmured, gently removing the article from the younger man's tight grasp as he spoke. Ianto nodded mutely- it seemed the only thing physically possible for him to do. Jack's proximity was doing things to him- crazy, scary, wonderful things, and he couldn't quell the sudden excitement which rose inside him as he wondered what his Captain would do next.

Smiling at the archivist's acquiescence, Jack reached up his free hand to softly cup Ianto's face before drawing the younger man in for a kiss.

It was perhaps the most magical thing Ianto had ever felt in his life. He might have spent hours fantasising about the first kiss in the dark of the night, but he had never imagined it like this. He had pictured it long and hot and heavy, up against the wall, all forceful tongue and clashing teeth and frantically groping hands as they fought for dominance. This was something else entirely. Jack's lips on his were softer and far more gentle than the Welshman had ever imagined, and yet they held a certain promise, and Ianto could sense the passion and desperation his Captain was holding back. 'I can give you everything and more, if you so desire,' said that kiss, 'but I won't rush you into anything you're not ready for; I'll never make you do anything you're not comfortable with.'

When Jack pulled back after a moment and vivid blue eyes alive with emotion stared into Ianto's, the Welshman could do nothing but smile before letting his eyes drift closed and kissing his Captain back. The fantasies were viable, and someday he would take everything Jack had to offer; but here and now, in this moment, nice and slow was nothing short of perfect.


End file.
